


Needle & Thread

by neaf



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Comedy, Fake Character Death, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-10
Updated: 2013-04-10
Packaged: 2017-12-08 01:28:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/755385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neaf/pseuds/neaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How can you miss Rodney if he never actually leaves? or: When presented with an alien button, never push it. Ever. No, not even if it sounds really cool.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Needle & Thread

**Author's Note:**

> This story presumes you're familiar with the Atlantean shield devices from Hide & Seek. Set somewhere after Season 2, but before most events in Season 3.

Teyla sighed.

At least they were on their way back to Atlantis. It was a slight grace, but any grace was welcomed at this point, she decided.

“But you see, it’s more of an art really. Not even a sport, an art form. A science. A blending of physics and precision and-”

“Rodney, it’s housework on ice.” John’s face was the same narrowed expression of distaste it had been almost the entire trip. Which may have had something to do with the fact that the argument had begun five minutes after they’d left Atlantis.

Ronon, however, still looked confused. Or maybe he was thinking about breakfast, Rodney couldn’t tell – to him, Ronon looked perpetually confused.

McKay turned in his chair. “I’ve already explained this – it requires both mental and physical skills on a level your more… _archaic_ sports can’t begin to reach.”

“Wait, so, they move down a frozen river with blades strapped to their shoes, after these sliding weights?” Ronon asked, attempting to clarify the concept.

“Stones,” Rodney supplied. 

“Probably the only ones involved in the game,” Sheppard muttered.

Rodney rolled his eyes. “Thank you, Colonel Jockstrap.”

“Whatever,” Ronon drawled. 

“What is a ‘jock-strap’?” Teyla enquired. Then, quietly, after she thought for a moment, said: “It sounds painful.” 

Ronon continued on his previous attempt to understand the subject at hand. “And they brush the ice to stop the stones with these – brunes?” 

“Brooms,” Sheppard interjected, one finger extended mockingly.

“Brooms,” Ronan corrected himself, “which are staffs with brushes on the end?”

“Mm-hmm, yes, well if you want to break it down into its simplest form for your … particular brain capacity, then yes, that’s part of it.” 

“Do they beat each other with the brunes?”

“BROOMS. And no, they do not _beat_ each other with them, it’s not some medieval testosterone contest, it’s … it’s an _art form._ "

“So there’s no combat?” Ronon asked. 

Rodney sighed. “No, there’s no fighting.” 

“It sounds boring.” Ronon concluded. 

Sheppard threw his arms out dramatically and cried: “Thank you! Now Ronon here is the kind of guy that would appreciate some good all-American football. That’s where the real life superheroes are made, my friend.” 

McKay turned back to his console, huffing. “Well clearly, curling is for a more developed mindset. I should’ve known better than to try and explain the merits of a nobler sport to Bruce Wayne and Bigfoot.” 

“I do not understand the relevance of the size of his feet?” Teyla was more confused than ever.

“It’s a human myth about a-” Rodney closed his eyes, frustrated. “Oh, just- just nevermind.”

“Hey, I don’t care.” John grinned, arms folded. He put on a serious face for a moment and whispered with deliberate intensity: “I’m Batman." 

Teyla, entirely confused, attempted to look enthralled with the cargo to avoid involvement as the discussion turned to the debate of which fictional earth warrior was more powerful, a bat-man or a super-man.

It took another fifteen minutes for them to reach Atlantis, at which point it was all she could do not to breathe a very loud sigh of relief to be able to depart her present company.

The puddlejumper paused as the huge doors opened, allowing it access to the familiar docking bay.

“Finally,” John growled as they docked and the jumper began to power down.

“Well, not all was in vain,” McKay chirped. “These new devices will benefit any future missions. And with the number of those new personal shields we picked up, we should be able to issue one to each member of every team.”

“Once you figure out how to make them work,” Sheppard clarified.

“Well, yes, there’s that. Shouldn’t be a problem.” Rodney scooped up the first pack and slung it over a shoulder as the rear compartment door raised.

Teyla and Ronon gathered their packs and the crates of cargo they’d acquired on their three-day mission. The invitation they’d received to visit M33-592 for the exchange of technology had come unexpectedly, and the fact that so many new and fascinating devices of Atlantean origin had become available had sent most of the science team into a spin at the opportunity they’d been presented with. With Weir’s clearance the invitation was eagerly accepted, and after three days of hard bargaining with market traders they had brought back enough new technology to effectively occupy the entire science department for … well, however long the coffee kept coming. 

Rodney’s eyes gleamed with excitement at every mention of the new devices and the endless possible uses they could be applied to, both practically on missions, and for the purpose of his research. He had developed an immediate attachment to a device that appeared to be an upgraded version of the Atlantean personal shield he’d once been bonded to, and with Teyla’s negotiating skills was able to acquire an entire crate full of the small black palm-sized devices.

John watched Rodney hurry down the ramp, a child-like excitement in his stride, and smiled slightly. As he reached down to retrieve the last crate a flash of light striking polished metal caught his eye, and he noticed one of the devices had fallen free of the case.

“Just, ah, bring those straight to the lab, guys,” Rodney waved an arm without looking back. Teyla and Ronon exchanged a glance as they finished collecting their crates.

“What are we, pack mules?” John protested, reaching for the device.

Rodney ignored the protest until a brief flash of hot white light filled the cabin, and a sharp hiss of pain sounded behind him. He wheeled around and looked up the ramp at Sheppard, who had dropped to the floor, cradling an arm. 

“What happened?!” Rodney demanded.

“The damned thing zapped me!” Sheppard growled, kicking the device in front of him down the ramp. “Shouldn’t be a problem, hey Rodney?”

Teyla lowered her case and knelt beside him, inspecting his arm. After a moment, she looked up at Rodney. “He has been badly burned, we need to get him to the infirmary,” she insisted, helping Sheppard to his feet.

As they passed down the ramp with Ronon in tow, Rodney’s eyes looked to the device by his feet. It was one of the new personal shield mechanisms, as far as he could tell. But the blue light that had illuminated it when attached to a wearer, as they’d seen in demonstration on the planet, was still on. “Hnh. It’s active, but it’s not attached to anyone.” 

After a moment he realised he was alone in the jumper.

Irritated by his lack of a listening audience, he looked back to the device and noticed it was clear on one side, and black on the other. A little confused, but mostly eager to get the device back to the lab to study it, he dropped his pack and removed his jacket, throwing it over the device. Tentatively, he reached down to the bulge in the jacket that indicated where the device lay, and tried to pick it up.

After a moment of what felt like a magnetic pull, it came free of the jumper and Rodney lifted the device-in-jacket up as he stood. “Hmph.”

He gathered his pack once again and started down the ramp before his arm started to, slowly but surely, vibrate. White light flashed, suddenly. He blinked and looked down, but before he could drop the jacket felt the burning sensation trickle up his hand and arm.

Yelping loudly, he threw the jacket and device, but the damage was done. With wide eyes he watched as the skin on his arm sizzled and began to slowly melt and drip. He tried to scream, but found he couldn’t make a noise. The light around him swirled into a grey mass, then darker, until blackness finally consumed him. The last thing he felt was the metal ramp of the jumper, coming up to greet him.

* * *

“Rodney?”

McKay felt as though his eyelids had been fused together. “Mmph-rshm?” he replied. After a moment, he realised he was in the infirmary – having been there enough times to recognize it by smell, and the sound of Beckett’s breathing.

“Rodney, can you speak?”

“Hmphsm-what? What happened?”

Carson lifted his eyebrows expectantly as Rodney’s eyes finally crept open. “You’re in the infirmary. You’ve got a very severe burn from one of the Ancient devices you brought back, and a bit of a knock on your head from the fall.”

“The fall?”

“You fainted,” John suggested from the adjacent cot. Rodney didn’t notice that there was no humour in his expression.

McKay dropped his head back onto the pillows. “Yes, thank you. Always there with a warm word of support.”

“I don’t blame you for passing out, Rodney.” The look on Beckett’s face was a little more serious, his voice a little too gentle. “The burn itself is… pretty nasty.”

“I thought my arm was melting off,” Rodney stared wide-eyed at the ceiling, remembering the smell and sight of his sizzling arm.

Beckett’s lips tightened, and his brow knotted ever so slightly.

Rodney saw, and his expression changed. “What?”

“Rodney, you sustained a severe burn to your right arm, you’ve-”

“I was hallucinating, right?” Rodney interrupted. “I mean, the device obviously malfunctioned and caused some kind of trauma that causes massive hallucinations. I’m fine. My arm, both my arms, are fine and there’s nothing wrong with -”

“Rodney,” Carson interrupted, trying to calm his patient. “Rodney, you need to relax.”

Rodney looked down at his now limp right arm after he realised he couldn’t feel any pain. Actually, both arms felt just fine. The arm that had been burned was bandaged heavily, he noticed, and there was a tube protruding from his hand.

“We’re doing our best to save your arm, but you need to understand the gravity of the situation.” Beckett’s eyes were sad, and sympathetic. But that didn’t change in any way what he’d just said.

Rodney’s eyes widened. “You’re – you’re doing your best to _save_ my arm?! What are you, nuts?”

“Rodney,” Beckett placed a hand on McKay’s shoulder in an attempt to calm.

“I feel fine!”

Beckett’s face read otherwise. “Rodney, with the degree of burns to your arm, it’s highly unlikely … what I mean to say is, even if we can save your arm, there’s no guarantee you’ll be able to use it as you used to. I’m sorry.” 

McKay wriggled his fingers to reassure himself. He felt fine. “Carson, you don’t understand, I’m fine.” His voice squeaked slightly at the end of his sentence, and he grimaced a little. _Oh, great, that’s really helping you with the not sounding crazy,_ he scolded himself.

Beckett closed his eyes for a moment, and then glanced at John.

“I’m not crazy! I swear, my arm is fine,” Rodney insisted. “Look!” He moved to pull the bandages away, but Carson stopped him.

“Rodney, please. You’re in denial. I know it’s a hard thing to deal with, but you saw it happen yourself. You need to understand. There’s a chance we’re going to have to amputate.”

“What? No- n-n-n-No. No!” Rodney used his good arm to throw his blanket off. “You don’t understand - I'm _fine_. This can’t be happening. This is a dream.”

“Rodney!” Beckett had an arm across his chest, trying to restrain him. “Please, calm down.”

Sheppard had leapt from his bed; his own arm now bandaged, and tried to restrain the frantic McKay as a nurse scrambled to call for security at the back of the room.

The struggle only lasted for a moment before the cushioning of the cot gave way and Rodney managed to squirm out from under both of them. Frantically, he backed up against a wall, knocking instruments and trays to the ground as he scrambled backwards. He clawed at the bandages as he whimpered softly, some part of him so sure he was correct. Yet, he saw it happen with his own two eyes. He felt it happen. How could he be okay after that?

Blood stained the edge of the bandages, but he barely saw it as he used a medical tray to hold back the advancing doctor and colonel. The tube that had been in his hand was hanging limply now by the bedside.

“You-you don’t understand. I am _fine_!” Rodney insisted. “And I can’t lose an arm. It – I’m not supposed to, okay? I need both arms, I need them to do my _job_ which if I’m not mistaken ninety percent of the time is saving all your collective asses so you will _not_ take my arm – you – I – no! N-just-no!”

“Rodney!” Carson shouted as two security guards slowly entered the room, faces serious. “You need to calm down. We’re trying to help you.” 

“By cutting off my arm?!” Rodney snapped back, his voice squeaking once again. “My arm is fine, it’s- it’s just burned a little - like Sheppard. It’s – it’s not that bad, it’ll heal.”

“Rodney, you held on to the device for far longer than the Colonel. I’m afraid the damage is far worse than you realise.”

“NO!” Rodney screamed back, tearing the bandages away from his limp arm. “It’s fine! Look! It’s fine!”

Carson rushed forward to stop him, but even once Rodney was restrained, still squirming and kicking, the arm was exposed. Bloodied, damp bandages lay strewn across the floor, torn aside only to reveal clean and undamaged skin. The only mark still present was the hole in the back of his hand where the IV had been, and a smattering of blood that surrounded it.

All motion stopped, Rodney and Carson looked at his arm in disbelief.

“Hnh,” Rodney looked smugly to the doctor.

Beckett’s eyes were still wide with surprise and shock. “Rodney, I dressed your arm myself. It was…”

“I saw it, McKay,” Sheppard insisted, slightly concerned. “It was… bad.”

Rodney’s face was riddled with arrogant confidence, but the corner of his eyes showed that creeping, badly hidden fear John had come to know so well. “Well… I guess I was right then. Hallucinations.” 

“No, Rodney, you don’t understand. I saw it.” Beckett held a hand to his forehead, lost for an explanation. “There was… the skin was all but gone, it was…" 

John slowly unwound his own arm bandage. Beckett watched, his face unreadable. Dropping the bandages, John lifted his arm and inspected where the streak of angry and blistered skin had once been.

Beckett shook his head, his eyes riddled with confusion. “I just… I denna know how it could be possible.”

“Well, I could perhaps find out for you if you have me released,” McKay offered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Beckett and Sheppard both awaited an explanation.

Rodney rolled his eyes and let his shoulders slump a little. “I can study the devices. Find out what happened, what they do – I’m sure this is just a side effect. A defence mechanism, as it were, to stop the devices being used by the wrong people.”

“And if it happens again?” Sheppard asked, incredulously.

“It won’t,” Rodney assured him, a frustrated tone to his voice.

Beckett shook his head, “There’s no way you can know that. Even with the proper protective gear… there’s just no way to know what these devices are capable of.”

“We’re both fine, aren’t we?” McKay gestured at himself and Sheppard.

The only response was silence. Yes, they were both fine. But, how? Nobody knew what to say – Beckett didn’t even know what treatment to give now that there was nothing to be treated. Once the painkillers wore off – if they still felt nothing, then what had happened? How could so much damage have healed so fast? 

Beckett didn’t like it, Rodney knew. But in the end, it wasn’t up to him. It was up to one person, and one person only.

* * *

“No,” Elizabeth said instantly once Rodney had finished his explanation. Her arms were folded. Rodney gave a heavy mental sigh – as soon as those arms were folded, it made convincing her that much harder.

“Elizabeth, these devices have a seemingly _unlimited_ potential! Think about it, every single mission, having everyone protected by personal shields? Completely invulnerable to the enemy fire – to the _Wraith_ – to danger! And we haven’t even unlocked the rest of the devices yet. They’re basically the same design as the personal shield, but there are so many more facets to them.”

“Like the ability to burn flesh from the wearer’s bones?” Elizabeth asked, unimpressed. 

“Give the _impression_ of injury,” he corrected her. “To the wrong wearer, yes. To dissuade them from using the device. But even that’s not permanent, Elizabeth, it’s a defence mechanism to stop the devices from being used by the Ancient’s enemies. That’s all, we can bypass it.”

“What makes you so sure, Rodney? You almost lost an arm.” 

“Well, had that actually been the case, I would be agreeing with you, really, I would, but it’s not what happened - not really. No - it was all an illusion generated by the device to stop it from being used by the wrong side.”

She lifted her brow. “And you don’t think that’s a good enough reason to leave these devices be? You both have the gene, after all – why didn’t it identify you?”

Rodney clasped his hands together. “Nobody _actually_ got hurt, Elizabeth. All I’m asking is some tests. Find out what these devices respond to, if the gene is a part of it – just some tests to see what they can do, that’s all. Full quarantine level security measures can be in place at all times, I promise, I just… we can’t ignore the benefits. These devices could make us impervious to the Wraith, indefinitely.”

Weir clenched her jaw, watching Rodney’s pleading eyes grow wider by the moment.

“Full quarantine security measures in place at _all times_.” She conceded.

Rodney grinned and bounced a little as he backed out of her office, “Thank you! Thank you – you won’t regret this. You’ll see.”

Weir watched him go and breathed deeply, trying to rid herself of a nagging feeling at the back of her mind.

* * *

Rodney stuffed his third power bar wrapper into his pocket and refocused on the containment field in front of him. It had been four months since they brought the devices back, and the total lack of searing-flesh incidents since then, coupled with the first demonstration of the personal shield’s capability to generate a controlled magnetic field, had reaffirmed his confidence in the project and given Weir enough to let them continue. 

Since the devices had been brought to the lab, Rodney’s time had been focused primarily on exploring their many features, leaving Dr Zelenka to fill the science liaison position on more and more away missions. They’d only unlocked three features after four months of work, and Rodney was growing impatient. He knew the devices were capable of so much more, but without touching them – without being able to use his hands to find switches or dials or “on” buttons – he was a loss with how to proceed.

It was sometime between evening and early morning – Rodney really didn’t know when – but frustration was mounting. It’d been almost three weeks since they’d made their last discovery (which was simply that you could change the colour of the illumination of the device, or make it rotate through colours. “A thrilling development for the world of interplanetary science! A breakthrough discovery in alien technology! We must contact Stargate Command immediately and tell them we’ve discovered Atlantean disco!” was Rodney’s first reaction) and he only had one more power bar left before he had to go back to his quarters to get more. And that would be a complete waste of time, if there weren’t more power bars at the end of the trip.

It was until other scientists started to buzz incessantly around him that he realised it was morning. And even then, it wasn’t until Zelenka strode in with pink lines of face paint down his cheeks that Rodney was able to draw his eyes away from his work.

“Ah, I see you’ve been having fun on M7G-677 again,” he noted cheerfully, giving an exaggerated thumbs up.

Zelenka looked up, grouchily. “Hilarity is your gift, Rodney.”

Rodney grinned and sipped his coffee.

“I try all night to get this smelly bark sap plant piss off my face, but no. True evil is four year olds with organic pink permanent markers.” Zelenka cursed quietly in Czech just to illustrate his point before sliding into a chair adjacent to McKay.

Rodney chuckled, but didn’t reply. He looked down to the display tablet in front of him, then up to the encased device, and jumped when a large object flashed in his view.

Zelenka grinned at the small victory. “The children make this for you. Don’t ask me why. Perhaps they make it for me so I can stick it with pins when you berate me, yes?”

It took Rodney a moment to realise that what Zelenka had crept over to brandish at him was a small, hand-made doll that, he assumed, was supposed to be his likeness. It was bulgy in the head and stomach, had almost no hair, and was wearing a tiny knitted Atlantean uniform. 

“That doesn’t look like me at all.” Rodney whined, more frustrated that Zelenka had made him jump and that the children had apparently grown even fonder of him in his absence than the fact they couldn’t really capture his features properly. 

“You’re right,” Zelenka conceded as he returned to his chair. “It has too much hair to be you. I keep it.”

Rodney didn’t want to dignify the jibe with a glare, and so focused even more intently on his work. After a few moments of silence, he opened a set of schematics he’d saved earlier in the evening - morning, he corrected himself – and reviewed them once again. 

The device in the containment field was the same one that had “burned” himself and Sheppard, he was sure. But what was confusing him were the two panels on either side of the device – unlike all the other devices, which sported two clear panels on either side, the lines on this device now seemed to be black. 

They’d already proven the device could emanate controlled magnetic fields, generate heat or cold, and, well, change colours – but McKay couldn’t test it’s capability as a personal shield until he could get his hands on it – literally.

He knew if there were any more incidents Elizabeth would shut the research down completely, but without interacting with the device, they seemed to be getting absolutely nowhere.

Sighing in frustration, he drained the remainder of his mug and glanced around for the location of the ever-important coffee pot.

“You know what’d be even better than more coffee?” Sheppard asked from the doorway of the lab.

McKay was poking around computers and desks, searching for the elusive jug of liquid sanity. His ears perked up at the question. “You brought more power bars?”

“Sleep. Rodney, get some rest.” Sheppard was leaning every so casually against the frame of the doorway, arms folded, face serious. It was his I’m-more-or-less-giving-you-an-order pose. And while it was surely intimidating to most of the lab, it rarely worked on Rodney.

“Ah, yes, sleep. Well, give me another seven or eight hours in the day and I would love to get some sleep, but as it is-” 

John lifted his brow.

Rodney sighed. “You’re right, I’d probably spend those in here as well. But you know how it is. No rest for the incomparable genius, eh?”

“Rodney you’ve been in here for the last 72 hours straight, at least.” Sheppard slinked forward just as Rodney located the coffee and started to pour himself a mug. 

Just as he lifted it to his lips, Sheppard snatched it artfully from his hands and held it behind himself, out of reach. Rodney whimpered slightly and reached out like a child being taunted with candy. “Okay, very funny. I’m not going to wrestle you for my coffee, so just give it.”

“Go to bed,” John ordered. “You get this tomorrow morning, we have a mission.”

Rodney slumped. “Look, I know I need to get some sleep but this is very important work here and I can- what mission?”

“You’ll find out in the briefing tomorrow morning, which you’ll want to be well rested for. Or you can just sleep in the briefing, they probably won’t notice, since you’ve been locked up in here the briefings have been considerably… quieter. And shorter. But, either way, it gets you out of this lab.”

“I’m not going.” Rodney stated bluntly, and turned around, picking up the coffee pot and returning to his seat with it.

“Yes, you are.” John argued. “Because I said so, and you are _not_ going to drink from that coffee pot. You’ll … give everyone cooties or something.”

“Yes, thank you, Colonel Magoo. I’m going to infect my entire lab with my crazy genius cooties… actually that probably wouldn’t be a bad idea. Now if you don’t mind, I have important work to do here.”

“McKay, you’re needed on this mission.” John insisted, his voice stern.

“Take Zelenka. He can play Dr Saves-the-Day this time." 

John cast a glance in Zelenka’s direction only to catch a brief moment of the scientist wringing the neck of what appeared to be a small doll.

“Look,” John leaned in, resting on his fists alongside the containment field. “I know you don’t want to stop your work. But you need to get out of here, clear your head, sort things out. Coming back to this thing with a fresh perspective can only benefit you, right?” 

McKay looked up from his coffee pot. “Since when did you become the well-being guru? This work is far more important than you or Elizabeth or anyone else can comprehend, alright? So just leave me in peace and let me do my job.”

“I thought your _job_ was to save our collective asses, huh?” John asked, reminding him of his rant in the infirmary. “How are you gonna do that if you’re not even there?”

“Shut up.”

“I’m not gonna shut up, Rodney, you need to-”

“No! I mean really, shut up. The containment field is losing structure, I can’t stabilize it - the device is activating. I- I didn’t do anything. This shouldn’t be happening!”

Blue and orange streaks of light started shooting in jagged lines from the device to the field that surrounded it. John leapt back.

“Everybody get out! Now!” Rodney cried, wheeling around to his fellow staff.

The coffee pot fell to the floor, shattering on impact as a searing hot white light filled the room.

John fell backwards and hit the ground hard, hearing Rodney scream only for a moment before the light began to fade. Pulling himself to his feet, he looked over to where Rodney was standing before the light hit - but the space was empty. “McKay?” John asked, warily. He rushed around the table. “Rodney?”

The other scientists began to pull themselves up off the floor and look around the room, bleary-eyed from the near blinding light.

John looked down at the floor to the broken pieces of glass and the puddle of coffee strewn amongst what seemed to be smoking ashes and dust.

He swallowed, hard. After a moment he clenched his fists.

Silence only built his anger, and he finally spun and slammed his fist into a wall.

The device flickered, still in it’s containment field.

But Rodney was gone.

* * *

Sheppard had spent most of the week pretending like the world was still turning just fine without Rodney McKay.

Weir had ordered the investigation with a cold disposition and a stiff nod. She blamed herself for everything, of course, everybody knew that much. But nobody mentioned it.

The official report read something about a lab accident with volatile technology, Sheppard had later heard. DNA remains located at the site of the accident indicated that Dr Rodney McKay, the chief science officer on the Atlantis expedition, was wholly incinerated by an unspecified hostile alien device. The report went on to specify the quarantine measures taken to lock up the device and all like it to avoid future ‘incidents’.

Sheppard didn’t care for funerals. He went, though, and stood at the back of the gate room while the ceremony was held. He didn’t hear a word that Elizabeth or any of the others had said about Rodney. He knew most of it would have been kind words - eulogies of how good a person Rodney was, how important his work was… they’d heard it all before... mostly, from Rodney.

He didn’t even flinch when they sent what was left of Rodney - “ashes” they called it, as though the man had deliberately cremated himself alive – through the gate.

Instead of attending the wake, John went for a run around the city. In the end, he found himself in the gym, beating the sense out of a training dummy and wishing it were someone real. Someone like the communications officer who’d received the invitation transmission. Someone like the traders who invited them, who had given them the damned devices. Someone like Rodney. Rodney, for being so stupid and keeping the damn things.

Himself. For not stopping any of it from happening.

John circled the city around again in a jog before heading back to his quarters and finding a long bottle of scotch. He scratched his once-burned arm absently, and tried to push the memories of the last week out of his mind.

Lying back, his head against the pillows, he closed his eyes and tried to keep his mind from running laps around the obvious – Rodney was dead. Dead. Gone. Not coming back, not even to tell him how badly they needed him around here, or to rant on about some kind of impending doom that only he could save them from, no, he was just… gone.

Sheppard tipped the bottle back and let the liquid burn down his throat, slowly. Helplessness never looked good on John. But he drank, and drank, until his throat felt raw and his mind eventually wandered over the events of the day, and the week.

He was sure the wake was still going on somewhere, full of nervous and miserable scientists who just lost their genius overlord. Sure, Rodney was a pain to work with, but the lab was a mess when he wasn’t around. His arrogance, his confidence and surety of his own capabilities, was the glue that held the Science team together most of the time. Without him, John saw them as little more than students in their first lab coats, messing with an overpriced alien chemistry set.

And those students were currently mingling uncomfortably around the finger food, mourning en masse, and trying to break themselves out of the shock that their boss just happened to spontaneously combust before their eyes.

Or, in Zelenka’s case, slumped in the corner having an intense conversation with some Pegasus brand Radek-Stoli.

John closed his eyes and scratched his arm again before tipping up the bottle. He felt his arm start to tingle, and scratched it again for good measure. As the silence truly settled into a hum, he realised his condition, and laughed aloud. The laugh lasted a moment before it turned into a sob without warning. He held his eyes closed, tight, and tried to stop. 

After a moment, he regained his composure, downing the last of the bottle.

It took him a moment or two to realise the bottle was empty. He looked down the neck of it, trying to determine if it was, in fact, empty or if it was trying to trick him into thinking it was.

He growled when the bottom of the bottle glistened back at him. “Oh well,” he mumbled drunkenly to himself as he raised the bottle in the air with one wobbly arm and laughed. “To Rodney McKay. At least y-you didn’t die at the hands of orange juice, l-like I… always told you … ’chyoo would.”

“Oh, see, that’s just tasteless,” a voice drawled in response.

Sheppard dropped the bottle and rolled out of the bed in one swift movement. He had intended to roll onto his feet, but instead landed on his face on the ground with an audible THUMP. Which was, not too long after, followed by a quiet: “Ow.”

Rodney, who stood, arms-folded, on the opposite side of the bed, lifted himself to his tip-toes to see the prostrate Sheppard on the ground. “That was graceful.”

John rolled onto his back, blinked, and rubbed his eyes.

“Oh, congratulations, drunken master, you have successfully offended the dead,” Rodney observed, wrinkling his nose at the heavy lingering smell of scotch.

John lifted his head just high enough to see over the edge of the bed. There stood the late Dr McKay, looking altogether amused, smug and slightly impatient.

“What are you doing now?” Rodney asked, looking over his shoulder to ascertain exactly what John was trying to peer at. After a moment he realised exactly what John was looking at, and glanced back to where Sheppard was still mostly concealed by the bed. “Can you see me?”

Sheppard nodded.

“Can you hear me?”

Sheppard nodded again.

“Oh, for god’s sake, get up here – all I can see is a bobbing set of eyes and that electrocuted rodent you call hair.”

John obliged, shuffling himself up and attempting to stand. “Y-you’re not really h-here.”

“Yeah? Look who’s talking,” Rodney replied, eyeing the unstable Colonel. “You … can actually hear me and see me?”

John nodded quickly, and managed to look exactly like a muppet while doing so.

Rodney’s brow lifted as he considered this new development. “Hnh.”

Sheppard tried to maintain his balance, but failed and ended up on his rear on the ground. He giggled a moment, then his face turned serious. 

“Wait… you’re not going to…?” Rodney moved around the bed, but by time he reached the other side the Lieutenant Colonel had already fallen backwards, eyes closed, and was sound asleep. 

“Great,” Rodney sighed, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “Fabulous timing, as always.”

John’s snored, and Rodney rolled his eyes in response. “Typical.”

* * *

John could’ve sworn he felt sunlight on his face, just like back home on earth. But there was no sunlight in his quarters at Atlantis. And yet, he felt oddly warm inside. The only other thing that made him feel like that was-

“Finally. Good morning, sunshine! Up. Up, up, up.”

\- excessive alcohol.

He groaned, and opened his eyes. The first thing he focused on was the gigantic Canadian hovering above, and he blinked as his eyes adjusted. After a moment, he stretched and said: “McKay… why are you in my quarters?” through a wide-mouthed yawn. So, it sounded a lot like: “Meehay, aie aooo ih mai hahters?” Which, of course, was absolute nonsense.

Rodney put on his usual I’m-just-tolerating-you half smile. “Yahuh. In English now, please.”

“I said,” John clarified. “ _Why_ are you in my quarters?”

“Oh, no reason,” Rodney replied with mock cheer. “Just been forced by some cruel ethereal afterlife power to follow you around non-stop for the last week with you being completely unable to hear or see me, which is a lot like normal, but since I’m bound to you by some invisible five foot tether, is much more frustrating – yes, I know, I didn’t think it was possible either, but here we are. How’s your head, hmm?" 

“My head’s fine… whoa…” Sheppard realised just how fine his head wasn’t.

“Hm-hmm. Well, if you don’t mind I’d like to get back to solving the problem of fixing my recent horrible incineration and this horrendous attachment to you,” Rodney drawled. “If, yanno. That’s _okay_ with you and all.”

“Uh-huh, just let me fix my hair, we can go see Weir.” Sheppard staggered towards the bathroom.

“Well, there’s bound to be an electrical socket around here somewhere.” Rodney made a show of looking around for power points.

John glared, then stopped in his tracks.

Rodney waved his hands impatiently. “Well? Hurry up! Dawdling is costing me serious incorporeal time here.”

Sheppard rubbed his eyes again and then looked over at his ghostly companion. “Rodney… you’re…”

“What? Fading?” Rodney looked down frantically, patting himself down as he did so. “Disappearing? Roguishly handsome for a ghost, what? What?”

“You’re dead.”

Rodney paused, wondering at the look on John’s face. He’d never seen it before.

After a moment of silence, Rodney’s brow lifted. “Brilliant! You win the nobel prize for obvious. Now can we _please_ get me my body back?”

Sheppard glared, ran a hand through his hair and picked up his jacket.

“I don’t mean to be insensitive to your overwhelming grief at my loss, truly, but I’d rather cut that middle man right out of there, whaddayasay?” Rodney suggested impatiently.

“You know, you are the bitchiest ghost I have _ever_ met,” John retorted, pulling his jacket over his shoulders and mentally commanding the door to open.

“Well, I am going to _ignore_ your insults, as you’re clearly in mourning.”

Sheppard threw a punch in Rodney’s direction, but felt his fist tingle as it passed clean through where McKay appeared to be standing.

Rodney’s expression changed from smug to surprised and outraged in a millisecond. “You – you hit me!”

“Oh, I did not,” John snapped back. “I was just…” (Rodney folded his arms, watching Sheppard’s mind ticking as he thought of an excuse) “Testing… to see if you were tangible or not. Making sure you’re a ghost or a spirit, ‘cause I saw you walk around the bed before instead of walking through it.”

Rodney considered the excuse for a moment. “Hmm. Force of habit.”

“There you go, now we know.” John shrugged and started down the hallway.

Rodney followed at his heels. “You wouldn’t _actually_ punch me like that would you?”

“Naw,” John replied. “Not like that, anyway.” 

Rodney smiled, satisfied. Then blinked, reconsidering the response. “Wait, like what then?”

John had already picked up speed down the hallway towards the command centre.

* * *

“Rodney’s a _what_?”

“Ghost,” John replied, matter-of-factly. “Like Patrick Swayze, without the … you know." 

“Bad fashion sense?” Rodney supplied.

“Hair,” John finished, looking smugly at Rodney. 

Rodney rolled his eyes. “Yeah, before I dignify that with a witty and scathing rebuttal, you do realise you’re mocking a dead man? The guilt must be _killing_ you. I can’t even imagine.”

Weir watched her chief military officer pull faces at the empty space beside him, unable to hide her expression of concern. “John.” 

Sheppard was distracted from Rodney’s ranting. “Elizabeth, I know this must sound ridiculous, but trust me. Rodney’s right here. He thinks something’s up with the de-”

“John.” Elizabeth cut him off, her eyes narrowing. “How are you feeling?”

John waved an arm dismissingly, “Look, I know what this looks like. But-" 

“You’re seeing Rodney, walking around Atlantis?”

“Not just seeing him,” John sighed. “Hearing him, which is the worst part. Elizabeth, we need to do something about this and fast. Apparently, he can’t move more than five feet away without being yanked back to me. I only just saw him this morning, but he says he’s been around all week and-”

“John, have you been drinking?” Weir narrowed her eyes a little more when the faint smell of Scotch struck her.

John winced. “Just a little. But I’m fine now.”

Rodney sighed, a hand over his eyes. “Oh, yeah, that’ll help.”

“John, I want you to see Doctor Heightmeyer,” Weir insisted.

“Elizabeth, you have to trust me. I’m not going crazy, Rodney is _right here_.” Sheppard gestured, impatiently. “Would I look this annoyed if he wasn’t?" 

Elizabeth’s face was unreadable. “Okay. So Rodney’s a ghost,” she conceded in her best ‘theoretically speaking’ tone of voice. “You’re doing pretty well for someone who’s just seen the ghost of a close friend who died less than a week ago.”

“Close friend?” Rodney’s head shot up. “Well, I guess you could call it that. I prefer ‘personal saviour’, myself-”

“I _know_ what this must look like,” John began again. “But I… he… he seems real. I can’t explain it. It doesn’t feel like he … like he died. At all.” 

“That’s called denial, John,” Weir countered.

“Confidant,” Rodney continued, to himself. “Comrade. Loved one, perhaps.” 

John slammed a fist on the table. “Rodney, shut up!”

Rodney blinked, arms folded. “Hm. Just trying to help.”

Weir’s brow lifted. “John, I want you to go see Kate Heightmeyer this afternoon. I’ll contact her and let her know you’re on your w-”

“Elizabeth, don’t-”

“John.” Elizabeth said firmly, cutting him off once again. “That’s not a request.”

His jaw clenched in anger, John cocked his head slightly before he replied; “Yes ma’am,” and turned to leave. 

“And John?”

He stopped just before he reached the doorway, and looked over his shoulder.

Elizabeth’s eyes were sad. “We all miss him.”

Rodney had a slight smile at the corner of his lips as he followed John out of the office.

* * *

“Well, that went well.”

John glared. “What did you expect? ‘Really John? That’s fantastic! We have Rodney back! Wait, let me get the Lantean piñata.’” 

“Very funny,” Rodney replied impatiently. “But, one, I didn’t expect this to work in the first place – I told you to go to straight to the lab, but noooo, and two, Lantean piñata? Please.” 

“You’re right,” John conceded, mockingly. “The Ancients were more of a pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey race.”

“Oh, oh, non-existent sides, how they split. The pain of incorporeal hysterics. Can we get my _body_ back now please?”

“And how do you _propose_ we do that, genius?” John asked.

“Well, considering the smartest person on the planet is temporarily out of commission I propose we find the next suitable candidate.”

John’s hands found his hips and he shook his head slightly, not quite clear on what Rodney was suggesting. 

Rodney sighed, eyes rolling and shoulders slumping with impatience. “Yes, yes. Caveman, ug. I keep forgetting.”

“Rodney, just-”

“What I am _suggesting_ , Colonel Cromag, is that we go find Radek.”

“Zelenka?”

“No, Radek the tap-dancing midget. Yes, Zelenka!”

“Bitchiest. Ghost. Ever.” John responded.

Rodney huffed as John turned down the corridor. “Oh, oh, that’s just-” He watched him go, and after he’d gone about five feet felt the pull of their invisible connection drawing him along after. “Well, aren’t you going to beat me over the head with your club and drag me?” He shouted down to him.

John only offered a one-finger gesture in response, without looking back. Rodney sighed, arms folded, and allowed himself to be pulled down the corridor after his unamused companion.

* * *

Walking through the science lab, John finally got a sense of what it had been like for the rest of Atlantis in Rodney’s absence. A new coffee pot sat, untouched, on the desk by Rodney’s station. None of his things had been moved, not even after the investigation had ended. A powerbar, pristine and unopened, gleaming in its packet, sat alongside the ceramic pot.

John cocked his head, a little confused.

“It seem more appropriate than flowers, yes?” A tall woman with a German flag stitched to her uniform shoulder explained.

Sheppard looked to her, to the pot and power bar, and then back to where she stood. He nodded without saying a word. She smiled slightly. John wished he’d remembered her name.

“Can I help, Colonel?” She offered.

Rodney was dumbfounded, speechless for the first time in as long as he could remember, standing beside his old desk. John cast a sympathetic glance his way.

“We – I – I’m looking for Dr Zelenka.” He said gently. “Have you seen him?”

She nodded, knowingly. “Dr Zelenka will be back momentarily. He has been gone all morning looking for something, but he should be back soon.”

“What’s he looking for?” Rodney asked, absently, his eyes still locked on the makeshift memorial on his desk. 

John jumped when he realised she wasn’t answering because she hadn’t heard the question. “Uh, what’s he looking for?” He repeated.

She lifted her brow and shrugged. “He was talking to himself in Czech, I do not really understand. But I think is for fixing his, eh… eh Spielzeug.”

“Spielzeug?” John blinked.

“He will be back soon,” she advised, gently, and turned to go back to her workstation.

“If you need anything, I be over here.” 

John nodded as she went, and turned back to his ghostly sidekick. “Well?”

Rodney still seemed lost in sentiment. “I knew they all respected me, looked up to me, obviously, but this… I don’t …”

His astonishment was interrupted by the loud cussing of a very scruffy Zelenka as he stumbled through the doorway. John hadn’t seen much of Radek in the last week, or almost at all since their last mission - but seeing him looking weary, unshaven and clearly sleep-deprived from the bags under his eyes… John remembered how he felt the days after Rodney’s apparent demise, and felt a pang of sympathy for the grizzly scientist before him. 

Rodney had, uncharacteristically, not spoken a word with regards to Zelenka’s appearance.

Radek began mumbling angrily in Czech as he slumped into his chair, hands pressed to his forehead, pushing back the surly mop of tangled hair that clung about his face.

John looked to Rodney, unsure of what to say or do.

Rodney looked mostly uncomfortable, and winced slightly as he listened. “Thousands of uniforms and nobody brings a needle and thread,” he translated. “Then… something about mindless idiots and… oh, yeah, he’s … he’s not happy about the mindless idiots.”

John caught the fuller meaning from the look on Rodney’s face, and picked out a few colourful words himself through Zelenka’s ranting. 

After a moment, Radek went quiet and looked over his shoulder. “Colonel Sheppard.” 

“Dr Zelenka,” John said, more formally than he had intended. 

“What are we, opening negotiations?” Rodney asked, incredulous. 

John glared.

Radek, however, didn’t notice. “Is there something I can… can help you with, Colonel?” 

“There is, actually,” John stepped closer. “I … needle and thread?” He was suddenly reminded of Rodney’s translation.

Zelenka lifted his brow. “Yes, I… cannot find any. Anywhere. It is stupid to me, to bring so much and no needle and thread, all these … these…” He became suddenly flustered, as if he were simply unable to express his rage in English. “I am sorry, Colonel.”

“What’s it for?” John’s curiosity got the better of him.

“What’s it for?” Rodney asked, annoyed. “Are we done with share-time now? I’m a ghost here!”

“Stupid children give me… this doll. This silly toy they make for Rodney.” He reached over to his desk, and picked up the knitted toy. “I joke at him and jest with it, but then… when Rodney … when he-”

John nodded.

“When he died, I kept it. I… do not know why. And today I picked it up and it… just…” Zelenka held up the toy, and John could see a frayed edge where an arm appeared to be missing. The arm, he saw, was still sitting on Zelenka’s desk.

Sheppard winced.

Rodney’s brow lifted, and he looked down at the now incorporeal arm that had once appeared to be melting. “Hmnh. How appropriate.”

He hid it well, at first, but John caught a glimpse of a tear as it made it’s way down Radek’s cheek and was caught in the stubble on his chin. “I don’t know why, but I need… I need to fix this. I need it … to be fixed. I cannot explain … I just…”

“No… no, that’s cool.” John insisted. After a moment he reached out an arm and gripped the small scientist’s shoulder, his face almost blank but for a tell-tale crease at the corner of his mouth. Zelenka nodded, and placed a hand over the Colonel’s on his shoulder. 

“This really is a very, very touching moment, but can we please get to the part where I’m solid again? Hmm?” Rodney was practically pacing now. 

John resisted shooting another glare at the invisible McKay, but instead remained focused on Zelenka.

“Radek, I can get you some needle and thread, but… I’m gonna need your help with something.”

Zelenka brightened a little. “Something would be?”

John paused, unsure. “I need to get my hands on the device that did all of this.”

After a moment of confusion, Zelenka looked up at him, almost wide-eyed. “No, Colonel… I mean, I wish I could help, I do, but … nobody has access to them, not anymore.” 

“But you can find a way? Zelenka, I need your help with this, the device didn’t do what we think it did.” 

Rodney folded his arms. “Oh, so you believe me now, do you?” 

Radek was confused. “What do you mean?” 

John hesitated, unsure of the impact it would have. But he knew he could trust Zelenka. He looked down at the knitted doll, hanging limply in the scientist’s hand.

“… Rodney’s alive.”

* * *

What was more surprising to John was not that Zelenka had believed them, but rather how quickly the scruffy scientist had put together a plan to retrieve the quarantined devices. Something sneaky lurked beneath that quiet exterior, and while Sheppard watched Radek at work he decided he would never play poker with the man… ever. He was fairly certain, by the time Radek had broken through all three encryptions, lowered two security doors, and was into the main quarantine locker that contained the crates of devices, that should he ever face the Czech across a poker table, he would probably lose everything he owned. Right down to his pants. 

Radek retrieved three devices quickly, using the gloves of a quarantine suit that hung in the open locker door to slide them into a metal case.

“Why only three?” John asked in hushed tones.

“One is the device that I was working on, the other two are controls,” Rodney explained, impatiently.

But Zelenka could not hear him, and assumed the question was aimed at him. 

“The first two are controls for me to compare to,” Radek explained quietly, clipping the latch of the box. “The other one is the device that Rodney blew himself up with.” 

“I did not _blow myself up_.” Rodney retorted loudly.

“Shhhh!” John hissed.

Radek lifted an eyebrow. 

John winced. “Right. You can’t hear him. Sorry.”

“No,” Zelenka conceded, and smiled slightly as he reset the quarantine locker security code. “I am the lucky one.” 

Rodney folded his arms and rolled his eyes. “Great. That’s wonderful, kick a man while he’s down.”

“Oh, just… chill, will you?” John snapped back, his voice still in whispered tones. “We’re working on it.” 

“Oh. Sure. ‘Chill’. Your sympathy is touching, but may I reiterate that I am _overwhelmingly incorporeal_. So our special moment hug will have to wait till another time, when I’m a little less with the ectoplasm.”

“Rodney, it’s important to me that we get you back,” John admitted.

Radek looked over his shoulder as they moved down the hallway, listening to the half of the conversation he could hear.

Rodney was surprised. “Really? It’s… important to you? To get me… back?” 

“Yes,” John admitted. “It’s important to me that we get you back. So I can _shoot you_.”

Zelenka stifled a snort of laughter as Rodney glared at the two men heading down the hallway.

“Yeah, very funny.” 

John ignored Rodney’s last comment, keeping his eyes focused on the corridor ahead, and the upcoming security door. All had gone well so far, and if getting the devices was this simple, he realised, the hard part would be getting them to a lab where they wouldn’t get busted. It seemed, though, that Radek’s plan was endless in detail, and soon enough the three of them (or two and a sort-of-half, really) found themselves in one of the abandoned station labs in the far west wing of the Lantean city.

“Nobody will be able to find us here,” Radek explained as he set down the metal case. “At least not for a few days, I have scattered internal scanner buffer for this wing – so life sign readings in this area will come up as standard anomalies until the buffer realigns.”

“How very _Hackers_ of you,” Rodney chided.

“Mmm. Angelina,” John smiled.

Zelenka narrowed his eyes. 

“Nevermind. Standard anomalies?” John queried.

Radek turned back to the case and opened it as he explained: “The internal scanner works based on patterns of life signs that the buffer reads from the atmosphere inside Atlantis. We have found that small anomalies are common in such a large space as Atlanis, and-”

Sheppard held up a hand to cut him off. “Forget I asked.”

Radek shrugged and lowered himself to a crouch, eyeing each of the devices carefully.

John looked to the devices and then to Radek warily. “Uh, don’t we need… quarantine suits?”

Zelenka shook his head. “Not for me. The very last thing we found about the device after what happened to Rodney lead me to believe it only reacts to the ATA gene in whoever is interacting with it. My body rejected the gene.”

“If it only reacts to the gene,” John wondered aloud, “then why aren’t I in the same position as Rodney?”

“Maybe it reacts to the ATA gene in geniuses,” Rodney offered.

“Maybe it reacts to the ATA gene in Canadians,” John retorted.

Rodney folded his arms and replied cockily; “Either way, it has good taste.”

“Said the _ghost_.”

“Canadian genius ghost, thank you.”

“Oh, will you just-”

“Children,” Zelenka cut them off in a quiet and controlled tone, “if you do not stop I will turn this lab around and we go back home.”

John and Rodney both huffed and turned, Rodney burying his head in his hands in frustration.

John paused, after a moment, and looked down at Radek. “Did you… can you hear him?”

Rodney looked up, having the same revelation.

“Me? No,” Zelenka replied without taking his eyes off the devices as he slid each one out of the case. “Well, not technically. You spend enough time with Rodney, you hear him anyway. Even when he’s not there.”

“I don’t know whether or not to be touched or deeply disturbed,” Rodney admitted.

“To answer your question,” Zelenka continued to John. “I believe you are not in the same place as Rodney because your ATA gene is true, and Rodney’s is generic.” 

“It’s just as good,” Rodney said defensively. “I can … do stuff.”

John’s brow lifted.

Zelenka narrowed his eyes at the faulty device and noticed the two black lines on either side. “To be blunt, Rodney’s ATA gene is … well, impotent. I believe the device may have detected this and reacted badly.”

“You know, that’s a … a really bad word for it. Okay?” Rodney snapped.

“Any idea why it reacted badly?” Sheppard took a step closer and leaned in, eyeing the device as Zelenka was. Without warning, the device began to hum and glow.

Zelenka lifted a finger as he raised himself from his crouch and began to slowly back away. “Uh, Colonel… you may want to take a step back…”

John eased himself backwards as the hum increased to a buzzing, and the glow rippled slowly. After a moment, a bolt of white light exploded from the device and shot across the room, snaking through the incorporeal McKay before dissipating.

John blinked.

Zelenka’s looked to the device, eyes narrowed, and then to its target. “It went to Rodney?”

Sheppard nodded, warily.

Rodney stood with his hands on his chest, looking around, bewildered. “Did it fix it? Can you see me?”

“Yes,” Sheppard answered.

Rodney’s shoulders slumped, and he rolled his eyes. “Thankyou, Einstein. I was talking to Zelenka.” 

Radek’s eyes were still flicking between the device and the direction of the bolt.

Rodney sighed. “Obviously, nobody’s home.”

Sheppard threw an arm out playfully, clipping the back of Rodney’s head. He had, of course, expected his hand to just swing right on through. He was a little surprised when it connected.

“Ow!” Rodney held the back of his head. “What did you do that f—oh. How did you…?”

John shrugged. After a moment he reached out and pinched Rodney’s arm, paused, and pinched it again. “You can feel that?” he asked, as he continued to pinch intermittently.

“Yes, I can feel that, and I can – ow! Alright! Okay! I can feel that, that’s enough!” Rodney yelped, rubbing his arm. 

Zelenka’s face lit up. “Now _that_ is interesting…”

“You pinch like a _girl_ ,” Rodney muttered defensively, still holding his arm.

“… something must have shifted in the device readings, for some reason it has altered Rodney’s state to a different level of the shield – the dial has moved on the base of the device,” Zelenka continued, lowering himself to eye-level once again with the small Lantean shield but not moving any closer.

“I didn’t see a dial.” Rodney made a beeline for the bench to get a better look.

Sheppard moved to follow when Zelenka held up a hand in warning, “Uh, Colonel! Just… stay there … for a moment.”

John froze on the spot, waiting for an explanation.

Radek took a step closer to the bench, focused on the shield. “In the lab, during the accident, how close were you to the containment field?”

Sheppard tried to remember. He put his hands on his hips after a moment. “I was right next to it.”

“And when you moved closer to the device just now, it reacted the same way as it did when it hit Rodney…?”

“Yeah,” John replied. “But what does it have to do with me?”

“You picked up the device before Rodney did, yes? In the jumper?”

“Yeah, it fell out of the crate. I picked it up and-”

“And it burned you?” Zelenka finished.

“Radek, where are you going with this-?” Rodney wondered aloud.

“Yeah, it did.” John answered. “And then McKay picked it up.”

Zelenka nodded.

“Why?” John asked, curious.

“There are two black lines on either side of this device, but when you look from this side, they are not so much black lines as a very dark red lines,” Radek clarified.

“Hmm,” Rodney was lost in thought.

John looked him up and down. “What’s the significance?”

“Both panels on all other devices are clear,” Zelenka explained.

“It was clear when I picked it up in the jumper,” John insisted, then paused a moment. “ … I think.”

“Hmm,” Rodney repeated. “And when I picked it up one panel was black. Or dark red or whatever. So –”

Suddenly both scientists’ faces lit up with the same expression of revelation.

John looked back and forth between them. “I missed something?”

Zelenka gesticulated wildly. “The panels, they’re not just panels, they’re-”

“They’re small, empty pockets in the sides of the devices!” Rodney explained, clicking his fingers excitedly. “If one of them filled when you picked it up, and the other filled when I picked it up – and whatever is in them is dark red, then it has to be-”

“They are empty chambers in the device, you see,” Zelenka continued, unaware there was a hyperventilating incorporeal Canadian talking over him. “And when you and Rodney picked up the shield it took a sample from each of you – the chambers are filled with your-”

“Blood.” John finished for both of them.

“Exactly!” They replied in unison, one excited, the other more contemplative.

“More or less, blood. More specifically your DNA, or the device’s recreation of your DNA from what it extracted when you both picked up the device and it attempted to bond with you.” Zelenka moved to stand by the device. “Somehow, it appears the device has attached itself to two owners in stead of one. Which may be causing the malfunction.”

Rodney looked at him incredulously. “Oh, ya think?”

“So how do we un-attach it?” Sheppard asked, ignoring McKay’s whining in the background.

“That,” Radek looked up. “Is going to be the hard part.”

John closed his eyes. “Why does there _always_ have to be a hard part?” he said under his breath.

Zelenka retrieved his computer and three small globes which appeared to be sensors. “I will know more when I scan the device. I know Rodney has done before, but now the device is fully active we may find more,” he advised, setting up the equipment. “Did Rodney say whether or not the device was half filled when he picked it up?”

“He did,” John confirmed. “One side full.”

“Which side?”

John looked up to where Rodney had been standing, only to find empty space. He looked over his shoulder, then, awkwardly, looked around the room.

Zelenka watched the Colonel spin and tried to hide his amusement, until he realised he was looking for their ghostly companion. “Rodney’s--?”

“McKay?” Sheppard called. “Rodney?”

“I thought he could not move more than five feet from you?”

“Yeah, so did I…” Sheppard conceded, annoyed.

After a moment there was a soft “Helloooooo” followed by a “Oh, come on! Not again. Oh this is just ridiculous!”

“Rodney, I can hear you but I can’t see you.” John called, still looking around the room.

“How about now?”

“Nope.”

Rodney waved his arms around in front John’s eyes wildly as the Colonel continued to look right through him. “Not even now?”

“No, I can’t see you at a-” suddenly, McKay appeared directly in front of him, and Sheppard almost jumped out of his skin. “Oh… for f-… argh!”

Looking satisfied, Rodney folded his arms. “Hmm. You can see me now?”

“Yes, Rodney. Yes I can.” John replied through clenched teeth.

“Well that was… weird. What happened?” McKay asked.

“He’s back now?” Zelenka enquired of the still irritated John.

“He is.”

“I am.” Rodney agreed. “I must have gone through some kind of temporal flux.”

“The device power levels dropped massively when I began taking readings,” Zelenka flicked through the statistics onscreen. “The device itself changed its power dispersal to compensate…”

“Maybe if we shut it down Rodney will rematerialize?” John offered.

“Or, maybe I’ll _die horribly_. Thank you, but we won’t be doing that anytime soon.”

“We may not have a choice,” Radek’s eyes widened at the readout onscreen.

Suddenly, John’s radio crackled with the sound of Weir’s voice. “Weir to Colonel Sheppard.”

Sheppard rolled his eyes. “Oh, great,” he tapped the radio on his ear. “Weir this is Sheppard, go ahead.” 

“Colonel, where are you?”

“I’m just…” Sheppard searched quickly for a believable lie. “Just running some laps.”

“John, I just heard from Kate Heightmayer. She says you never showed up this afternoon.”

“DAMN.” John mouthed silently, “Right, Elizabeth. I’ll… can it… wait? Until tomorrow.” 

“John.”

“I know, I know. But I’m … busy." 

“Colonel, please see Dr Heightmayer immediately. She’s waiting for you in her office.”

“Yeah. Sure. Alright.”

“And John? She can help. It may not seem like it now. But she can. Weir out.”

He looked over his shoulder at Zelenka as he headed for the door. “I have to – go do this thing, I’ll be back in an hour. Or less, if I can somehow manage to cry.”

“I’m touched,” Rodney drawled.

“Colonel – you must… hurry. I –” Zelenka stood before Sheppard reached the door. “The power levels on the device are dropping. Slowly, but steadily, since we reactivated it. I …

… I don’t know how much longer Rodney has.”

* * *

John had always recommended the services of Dr Kate Heightmeyer to his team. It seemed practical in a profession where high stress levels were a norm - and he’d never really worried about the stigma attached to therapy. That is, until he had to endure an entirely unnecessary session when he had more important things to do; like saving the chief science officer of the Altantis expedition, who was presently babbling on beside him like a tree full of monkeys. A tree full of inherently pessimistic Canadian monkeys who had been made incorporeal by a malfunctioning alien shield technology and faced almost certain vanishing deaths at any moment, that is.

Dr Heightmeyer, however, stared calmly into John’s slightly unfocused and occasionally twitching eyes, entirely oblivious to the unending stream of complaints and objections McKay was voicing.

“John, do you know why Dr Weir asked you to come see me?” Kate asked, gently.

John lifted his brow. “Something to do with my wild hallucinations, probably.”

“Hallucinations?” Rodney lost his previous line of thought. “What are you _doing_?”

“Do you really believe you’re hallucinating, John?” Heightmeyer tilted her head slightly, as if doing so would open her ear wider and therefore give her the appearance of listening as much as possible.

Slightly irritated, Sheppard tried to ignore the visual of the woman being stuck in the face by a bolt from a Wraith stunner. “Sure.”

“Oh, you are a _terrible_ liar.” Rodney began to pace, arms folded.

“When did you start seeing Rodney?” she asked.

John shrugged. “Yesterday. But he’s gone now.”

Rodney stiffened. “I’m not… I’m not really gone, am I?”

Unable to suppress the glare he shot across the room, John inwardly kicked himself when he realised he’d slipped.

Without missing a beat, Kate glanced across the room, following the line of John’s glare. Rodney, oblivious to the exchange wandered back over to John’s seat as Kate looked back to him and narrowed her eyes a little. “John, is Rodney in the room with us now?”

“Yes! Yes, I am.” McKay replied enthusiastically, and patted John on the shoulder. “See? Kate will help us.”

Still awaiting John’s response, Dr Heightmeyer lifter her brow expectantly.

Sheppard’s jaw clenched. “Nope.”

“What are you doing? Tell her I’m here! Tell her – oh! I know, tell her I said … tell her – tell her I told you that I see her every second Tuesday, and last session I told her about Jeannie’s pet rat, and about the time I almost lost half my toes when I got stuck in a- oh! No, tell her I told you about… the goat fear.”

An unmistakable you-have-GOT-to-be-joking expression crossed John’s features.

“What’s Rodney saying to you, John? It’s obviously upsetting you,” Kate leaned forward a little in her chair. “Does Rodney upset you often?”

“Upset, no. Irritate…” John mumbled under his breath, letting his sentence trail off.

“Hey!” Rodney objected.

“And how does that make you feel?”

John paused. He didn’t quite hear her question - he was too busy pondering his options.

Heightmeyer studied him for a moment. “What’s Rodney telling you?” 

Extraordinarily uncomfortable with what he was about to say, Sheppard visibly winced. “He says… that he sees you every second Tuesday… something about his sister’s rat… goat fear?” John shot a look of complete confusion at his invisible companion.

McKay lifted his hands in his defence. “I know, just – just… nevermind. It’s a long story.”

Kate locked onto him with a look of what John could only interpret as sympathy. “I can understand Rodney wanting to confide in you. You were very close to Rodney, weren’t you?”

John rubbed his forehead, irritated that he’d managed to get into this particular situation. If he’d listened to his instincts and pretended the whole thing wasn’t happening, he could have been out of this predicament and back in the lab with Zelenka by now. The sooner things got back to normal, the sooner he could sleep off the remainder of his hangover.

“John? Did you hear me?”

Sheppard looked up. “Look, Dr Heightmeyer… Kate - I appreciate what you’re doing here. I do. I just… I have things that I have to do. Important things.”

“Did you ever tell Rodney?” she asked suddenly.

John froze. “Tell him what?”

“How you feel about him. That you care about him?”

McKay smiled and rocked on his heels, arms folded across his chest. “Oh, this is getting good.”

“Shut up.” John drawled.

Kate lifted her hands. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Not you,” he shot her an annoyed glance.

“John, are you okay?”

“You know what?” Sheppard looked up at her, straightening in his chair. “I’m not. Not really. I need – I need to rest. My head is killing me and I need some time to think about what you’ve said, you’ve been very helpful,” he raised himself from his chair and gathered his jacket.

She stood with him. “I’d like to see you tomorrow, Colonel. Dr Weir, I’m sure, would agree that it’s for the best.”

“I’m sure it is. And I will be back,” he backed out of the room, gesticulating as he went. “Tomorrow. First thing.”

As she watched him go she wondered if the flicker and twitch of his eyes was because of the suppression of his grief, a product of hallucinations, or even just a physical manifestation of his clear and absolute emotional exhaustion.

Some strange, nagging part of her wondered if it was as she’d first thought when she saw it there.

A tiny flash, every now and then, of fear.

* * *

“Well that was… _enlightening_ ,” Rodney’s smugness was palpable. 

John ignored his jibe as he all but sprinted down the corridor. “Let’s just… get back to the lab.”

It wasn’t long before his pace turned to a trot and then a jog. Rodney had turned uncharacteristically contemplative as he allowed his invisible tether to pull him along at a smooth pace behind his companion until they finally reached the door of their temporarily hidden lab.

“Ah, you’re back.” Radek’s tense frame eased when the silhouette in the doorway became the lit figure of the Colonel.

Sheppard scratched his neck as he took a quick glance around the room. A few things had changed – Zelenka’s sensory set-up was now far more complex than when he’d left, and a brace with a long opening sat above the devices with two panels stretching out beneath them.

Zelenka lifted a cylindrical container from a case, no bigger than a stick of dynamite, and slid it gently into place in the brace above the devices. “You are just in time, Colonel. I am hoping to counter balance the energy discharge from the faulty device with this. It will regulate power,” Zelenka looked up, warily, “I … hope.”

Rodney blinked when he spotted the cylindrical container, astonished. Astonishment soon turned to outrage. “Where did you get that?!”

John eyed the device. “Is that… what I think it is?”

“If you think it’s a model of a ZPM power cell, then yes. I was working on it before we went to M33-592, but I haven’t been able to run proper tests on it yet – where did you get that?!” He repeated, angrily.

John shrugged. “I was going to say Illudium PU-36 Explosive Space Modulator, but ZPM power cell works." 

Rodney rolled his eyes.

“One of Rodney’s projects,” Zelenka clarified. “I assume he explained? Probably stamping his feet and blowing ghost smoke out his ears at the same time.”

“It’s not even a working model, it was –” Rodney was silenced as the device lit up, and a stream of orange light illuminated the cell, throwing a protective shield over the encased Atlantean devices below.

“Apparently it’s a working model.” John clarified.

“H-how…” Rodney stared, eyes-wide, at the cell.

“Is useful device – perhaps not ready to power a ZPM yet, but we can work on that later. … uh…” Zelenka looked to the Colonel, a somewhat puzzled expression set in his grizzly features.

“What is it?” Shepard asked.

“What is a Space Modulator?”

“Oh, please,” Rodney held his head.

John smiled reassuringly. “Well, it’s a very powerful device. Shame we don’t have any, really.”

“Oh,” Zelenka considered for a moment. “What is it used for?”

“Earth shattering kaboom.” John spread his hands in demonstration.

“Yes, this is all well and good – but I’m on a time limit here, if you don’t mind,” Rodney interjected.

Sheppard glared.

Zelenka noticed Sheppard’s now familiar empty-space-directed glare and assumed Rodney’s pessimistic rants on his impending doom had resumed. “Yes. He is going to be no more soon, we should put him out of our misery.”

“I don’t think either of you have quite grasped the gravity of this situation,” Rodney insisted.

John reached out a hand and clipped the back of Rodney’s head in one swift movement.

“Ow!” Rodney rubbed the back of his head. “What – were you … were you checking to see if I’m still tangible?”

Sheppard’s eyebrows lifted. “No.”

“Alright,” Zelenka made a few final adjustments to his structure before beckoning for John to approach. “Come forward. I need to see that the containment field can withstand the device at it’s full potential.”

“W-w-whoa! How is that a good plan?” Rodney all but flailed, his eyes wide. “You’ll drain the device of what marginal power it has left and kerplooey, physicist soup. No, no, that is what I would call a particularly _bad_ idea.”

John translated to the expectant Zelenka: “You’re sure it won’t drain the device completely?”

Radek nodded, “If I am right it will draw energy from the containment field and we may be able to buy Rodney more time. The nature of the power the cell generates means it is more likely to be able to stabilize and contain the device than the one Rodney generated off our regular cells in the lab. Though it is… experimental… the cell should hold in the circuit," 

“Oh.” Rodney folded his arms. “Well, he didn’t say he’d created a circuit if … if he had then I… yeah. That’s good. Go on.” He nodded to John and pointed a few times to the structure across the room.

Rolling his eyes, John slowly took one step after another towards the bench that held up the awkward structure. The humming sound began, as before, followed by a buzzing noise the closer he drew to the table. Finally, the glow lifted high into the now visible orange containment field that formed a half-bubble above it. A few flashes of hot white light exploded inside the field as Sheppard reached the desk.

Zelenka’s eyes, framed by glasses and matted hair, darted back and forth over his computer’s readouts. “Excellent… power levels of the device are rising… it’s almost back to full power, just a little longer.”

Rodney had a slow, creeping feeling in his stomach. The kind of slow creeping feeling that had previously preceded the destruction of a solar system. “Turn it off,” he said quietly.

John couldn’t hear him over the buzz off the device.

“Turn it off!” Rodney yelled. 

Sheppard heard his voice through the roaring hum, and looked over his shoulder at the panicked, wide-eyed McKay. Seeing the look of urgency and fear on McKay’s face he recoiled, and instinctively reached an arm out to Zelenka. “Turn it off!” 

Radek looked stunned for a moment before he looked down to his computer and extended a finger to execute the power-down command. Before he could, however, the computer in his hands shuddered and a bolt of the white, hot energy seared across the panel. Crying out, Zelenka dropped it as streaks of light exploded through the containment field and darted across the room in a horizontal display of orange and white lightening.

Taking Zelenka by the shoulders, Sheppard ducked, and they hit the ground hard. In seconds Sheppard had managed to manoeuvre them under a nearby bench where he kept his back to the structure and Radek protected in the circle of his chest and outspread arms.

“The field has lost containment!” Zelenka shouted over the now roaring static that the device was bombarding them with. “The device will draw power until it overloads – it will explode! This entire lab, colonel – this entire wing –Atlantis!”

John nodded his understanding. “Earth shattering kaboom.”

Zelenka nodded quickly. “And Rodney with us! If the device loses power he will dissipate! After you left, the scanner confirmed it has your DNA – you and Rodney – it believes you are the same person,” he explained. “It’s not just a shield, Colonel, it is also a cloak.”

“A cloak?”

“Yes!” Radek shouted.

Sheppard waved a hand. “You can explain that to me later, Doctor, I need to know how to shut the damn thing off!”

“It is believing you and Rodney are the same person!” Radek reiterated.

“Yeah, I got that part!”

“The reason the cloak has been malfunctioning – it needs direct contact with it’s bonded DNA. It tried to bond to you, but failed. It tried to bond to Rodney, but failed because one chamber was already full from your contact, and his gene was not pure – it could not override your DNA!”

A hot, white blast of light tore through a bench alongside them, and John heard a cry amidst the static. Remembering McKay, he leaned out from under the table momentarily and scanned the room. Between blasts of orange, yellow and white he caught site of a slowly fading Rodney by the device, attempting to pick it up or make some kind of contact. As his hand repeatedly passed through the device, each blast that passed through him faded him even more.

“RODNEY!” John roared across the static.

McKay’s eyes looked down to where they were sheltered, “I can’t fix it if I can’t touch it. How can I stop this if I can’t touch it?!” he asked himself, panicked. He was frantic now, and though he was shouting, his voice faded in an out with each flash.

“Rodney!” John called again. “Get away from it!”

Blue eyes looked down at him again, illuminated by white lightning and time framed by an expression of resolve. “Get out of here!”

“We’re not going anywhere!” John cried back.

Rodney’s usual frustrated retaliation was emphasised by the determination and desperation in his voice. “John--” he begged.

Sheppard gave Rodney one last stubborn glance before swinging back under the bench. Angry and running out of options, he seized Radek by his collar and bellowed into his ear: “HOW DO I FIX IT, RADEK?” 

“I believe,” Radek shouted back, “it needs both sets of DNA at the same time – both in contact!”

“Rodney can’t touch it!” John argued.

“But _you_ can! And you can touch Rodney! If you create a circuit of both your DNA, it will recognize it’s bonded owner and shut down properly – and uncloak Rodney in the process!”

John considered quickly before eyeing the small, ragged scientist in front of him. “You’re sure about this?”

“I am _sure_.” Radek’s voice was hard and confident.

John nodded to the scientist and slid out from under the bench. In one swift moment he lunged for the device, his hand burning on contact with the hot orange glow it emitted. He knew the device was in his hand, but the pain that rippled up his arm made the struggle to keep his fist around it all the more agonizing.

He looked up, tears of pain staining the edges of his eyes, until he caught sight of Rodney, now a wisp of white and blue on the edge of the orange yellow glow.

In two steps he reached him, and what remained of Rodney ducked to catch the toppling Colonel as he staggered forward. Hands connected, and Rodney’s figure darkened a little on contact as he grappled John around the waist to lift him up. With the Colonel’s arm over his shoulder, Rodney tried to pull him to the door at the side of the lab.

“RODNEY.” Sheppard shouted, but no words could be heard over the shattering roar of the device in his hand.

With ever inch of energy he had left, Sheppard regained his footing and shoved McKay, hard, into the wall. He pursued, barely keeping upright, and raised the shield cloak to his chest. His free hand reached up and found the side of Rodney’s face, drawing Rodney’s lips swiftly to his own. In an instant the shield latched on to his shirt, and he raised a second hand to cup Rodney’s cheek as he pressed himself against the astounded scientist.

The hot orange glow burned through his chest and flashed high in the air of the room in one last spectacle of yellow, white, orange and red, before falling from the air as though it were stardust.

The hum died down, and after a moment John felt a cold numbness replace the burning in his chest and hand. He pulled away from Rodney, eyes blinking in alarm.

McKay took another moment to open his eyes, but when he did found he was staring rather intensely into the eyes of John Sheppard.

Unsure of what to say, or moreso how to speak, John simply stood – blinking – entirely unable to look away.

“Rodney?” Zelenka’s voice broke the trance, and both men looked over to find Radek emerging from under the bench he’d been dragged to for cover.

It took a moment for McKay to respond. “Oh! You can see me?”

Radek smiled and rushed towards them, elated. “It worked.”

McKay grinned and patted his chest down in excitement and relief. “It worked, I’m alive! I’m… here!”

John backed away, his face drawn in serious but unreadable lines.

The two scientists embraced briefly before Radek pulled back and began to chatter at indecipherable speeds in Czech. From what Rodney could determine, he was mostly reassuring himself of how grateful he was that he would not have to work for a… something… weasel… something… Cavanaugh… monkey face... something … excrement wheelbarrow. Rodney had tuned out by the time Radek had made it to the door, his gaze now resting on the silent Colonel.

"Colonel, I...” he said gently.

Radek looked over his shoulder knowingly, smiled, and continued out the door down the hall.

John looked up slowly. He smiled after a moment, but it was an odd smile that betrayed something entirely different lurking beneath. “It’s good to have you back, McKay,” he said firmly, his tone reassuring and sincere.

Rodney half-smiled in response. “Hmm. Well, it’s good to be back, if I may say. All thanks to yourself. And… Zelenka. Of course.”

“Of course.” John conceded softly.

A silence settled that had both men screaming internally. _Say something._ John thought. _God, anything. All you ever do is talk and you choose NOW of all times to shut up?_

“Well, we’d … uh, best be getting back,” Rodney insisted as they both shuffled towards the door. “Let everybody know you’re not crazy. I’m not dead. Zelenka’s not drunk somewhere. You know.”

They reached the doorway and John looked sideways at Rodney. “…Get you some coffee.”

Rodney sighed blissfully. “Oh, god yes.”

Laughing aloud, John rested a hand on his friend’s shoulder. Some things would never change.

* * *

Rodney’s eyes raced over line after line of the latest cloak schematics as he downed the last of yet another mug of coffee and reached for his new glass coffee pot.

His epic resurrection was the talk of Atlantis for all of four days before the world started to fall back into place again. The attention he’d found from all his colleagues had only just begun to wane, and aside from the two-day physical Beckett had made him endure, the majority of it had been pleasant.

The devices had finally found their use, and dozens of features had been discovered since they had been released from quarantine - from holographic generators to a fully fledged personal body cloak and shield. Their potential seemed positively endless – but only for those born with the ATA gene. A fact Rodney was somewhat bitter about.

Either way, the study of the devices had been a far slower and far more involved process than before, and a far more delicate one. Rodney still hadn’t been cleared for gate travel, and despite the fact that the lab was more like a second skin to him than a room, he did miss the adventure. Though, he’d never have admitted it to Sheppard.

As he took another sip of his next mug of coffee, Rodney leaned back in his chair and rubbed his face with his free hand.

“You do know that if you don’t sleep for more than five days you can die, right?”

Rodney continued to rub his eyes, already aware that the Colonel had been standing in the doorway for at least five minutes. “Actually it’s more like ten or, uh, eleven days. Or even several months, in cases of fatal familial insomnia and the like, but your concern is truly touching, I assure you.” 

“Don’t you have a date with a Doctor?” Sheppard asked, leaning against the doorframe.

Rodney graced him with a slightly disgusted look. “Over, thank _god_ , after two miserable days of needles and tests and constant discomfort. The man is a sadist. If we were back in the milky-way I’d sue for malpractice, I’m sure half of the things he did to me aren’t even legal on Earth.”

John folded his arms and scowled, mockingly. “Oh, he should’ve at least taken you out to dinner first.”

“See, normally I’d strike back with a suitably witty line, but in retrospect I’m almost inclined to agree.” Rodney conceded, painfully.

Sheppard laughed softly as he wandered into the lab. “You’ve been cleared for Gate travel.”

Rodney looked up, surprised, and smiled. “Really?”

“Easy,” John held up his hands, a little alarmed by Rodney’s unusual enthusiasm. “Briefing is tomorrow – Weir wants us to go back to M34-229 and help the Darrokans with their perimeter shield.”

“Their ZPM powered perimeter shield?”

“That’d be the one,” John confirmed. “If you can pry yourself out of this room for more than five minutes.”

McKay’s attention had turned back to the computer diagrams flickering on his screen. “Mmh. Shouldn’t be a problem.”

“You know what? You should never say that,” Sheppard mused aloud. “Never, ever again.”

“Don’t be so superstitious,” Rodney scowled.

“Sure. Okay. If we get shot? Your fault.”

“I’m willing to live with that,” Rodney agreed.

John shook his head and muttered to himself. Sometimes, he didn’t know what to do with the man. He observed him for a moment, remembering briefly the moment they’d both expertly forgotten for the last four days. He shivered.

Rodney’s attention was still locked on his screen, though he noticed from the corner of his eye a flicker of a silver power bar packet in John’s pocket. 

“You know,” McKay turned to the Colonel. “Zelenka was so fascinated by the concept, he’s actually working on a model of an Illudium PU-36 Explosive Space Modulator?”

From his desk Radek looked over his shoulder, surprised.

“Really?” John smiled. 

“Yeah,” Rodney nodded enthusiastically, and pointed. “It’s just up there.”

John looked over his shoulder and jumped a little when Rodney expertly snatched the powerbar from his pocket and unwrapped it in a matter of seconds. 

Chuckling under his breath, Zelenka turned back to his work.

Sheppard narrowed his eyes. “Oh, you’re low.”

Rodney’s smiled and his cheeks bulged slightly, full of a power bar. “Mmm. Yes,” he agreed. “But I also have a power bar.”

Sheppard’s shoulders slumped – his usual gesture when Rodney’s logic was infallible.

McKay had turned back to his screen once again. Realising he was still being glared at, he lifted the half-full coffee pot up in John’s direction. “Genius cooties?” he offered.

John waved a declination. “No thanks. I… think I got my share already.”

Rodney’s amusement was plain. “Hm. I guess you did.”

John let a hint of a smile creep to the side of his mouth as he turned to go. “Get some sleep. Briefing at 0900.”

Rodney nodded and waved him away, turning his attention back to the schematics. He didn’t see a small white packet fall from the Colonel’s sleeve as he brushed past Zelenka’s station, nor the wink that accompanied it. 

Curious, Radek reached out and gathered the tiny cardboard packet into a hand, sliding the cover off. He blinked, let his brow furrow, and stroked a thumb over the contents. After a moment he smiled, and slid the sewing kit into his pocket.

“Make sure there’s coffee!” Rodney called after the departing Colonel. 

John waved an arm over his head as he walked out the door. “Good night, Rodney.”

Rodney stared at the empty doorway even after Sheppard had disappeared from view, and smiled to himself. 

“Goodnight, John.”

(FIN)


End file.
